


Untitled (You Get What You Ask For, But Not What You Want)

by DizzyDisaster



Category: Original Work
Genre: Death, Demons, Demons Are Assholes, F/M, Fantasy, Faustian Bargain, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Murder, NaNoWriMo, NaNoWriMo 2017, Oh I Just can't wait to be queen, Teen Pregnancy, Time Skips, first draft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:47:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 10,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23334076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DizzyDisaster/pseuds/DizzyDisaster
Summary: Elizabetta Salleri grew up the only daughter of her small House, knowing that one day her father would marry her off to some other lord's son all for the sake of money and status. This displeases her, but what is a girl like her to do it this world of Lords and Kings? And then HE came into her life, her mysterious friend Selzar who comes fleetingly in and out of her life at various moments of her existence, filling her loneliness and offering her the world and power she has always wanted. Someone should have had the forethought to teach lonely little girls to stay away from deals with devils.





	1. Blossom Kissed Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers! I first wrote this story during my senior year of high school for NaNoWriMo. This, at the time, was the best thing I had ever written, and it's still to this day one of the better ideas to have ever come out of my head. It has not been edited, so everything you read is my raw 2017 angsty 17-year-old ramblings, but I do hope to go through it one day and fix some things and turn it into a graphic novel or something like that (Hi, Graphic Design major. How are ya).
> 
> When I wrote this two and a half years ago, I was OBSESSED with Game of Thrones and Death Note, and a lot of those influences are fairly easy to see.
> 
> And lastly, I am so thankful for my amazing high school English teacher who made us write a 10,000-word short story every November. Toddy, if you ever find my Ao3, I might panic, but I love you anyway. Please, for the love of God, don't read the poems.
> 
> And with that, please enjoy the story!

Elizabetta was a lonely child. She was the youngest child of House Sallieri --she had turned four this past winter-- and the only daughter of her lord father, Constantine Sallieri, the head of her small eastern house. Her elder brothers thought themselves higher than to bother themselves with the trivial games and fantasies of a young girl, and her siblings who were much closer to her in age cast her aside to play soldiers. She longed for a younger brother or sister who she could dote upon, but her maid Margarette had explained to her that her mother became sick shortly after she had given birth to Elizabetta, and that she was much too weak to birth another child for Lord Constantine. She had then asked Margarette if she was the reason that her mother had fallen ill, but her maid had remained silent and left her confused. Elizabetta had decided that she would not ask again. 

The sun had reached its zenith in the bright blue sky, and Elizabetta sat in a circle of cherry blossom trees, their pink petals floating slowly to the ground. The trees were a gift for her Uncle Zander’s wife, Sayu. They came from her aunt’s homeland, and she often found the soft-spoken woman sitting amongst the falling blooms basking in the spring sunlight seeping through the treetops. Whenever Elizabetta found her like this, she let her be and went to find somewhere else to play. Today however, her uncle’s wife was nowhere to be seen, so Elizabetta was able to play amongst the flowers, pretending she was a pretty little foreign princess sleeping amongst the blossoms and waiting for a charming prince to kiss her awake from her slumber. 

The warming sun had fallen past the horizon by the time Elizabetta had fallen asleep in her little grove. No one had come to look for her. Not even Margarette, who normally came to find Elizabetta when it was time to dine for supper. This did not bother the child. If no one was going to summon her, then she was tempted to once again rest her head amongst the soft downy petals of the cherry blossoms and sleep until the rising sun came to wake her for the coming day. 

The snap of a branch breaking underfoot alerted Elizabetta to the presence of an intruder to her pink domain. She expected to greet a familiar face into her circle of trees, perhaps Margarette seeking her out to freshen her up before her nightly meal with her family. Perhaps even Sayu, coming to investigate who was napping in her sanctuary of cherry blossoms,  _ sakuras  _ as she had once heard the woman call them. What the young child was not expecting to see was a man. He looked to be around her eldest brother Lysander’s age, who would be nine and ten this coming summer. The man grinned at her, something in his smirk sharp, and yet comforting all the same, inviting her to give him an innocent smile in return. 

“What is a pretty little thing such as you doing out here all by yourself?” asked the man, bending over her ever so slightly. He was tall and lanky, and he towered over her small form like a mountain towers over a lake. 

“I fell asleep,” said Elizabetta, and the man’s grin widened, causing his eyes to flash and for her to realize that they were a deep shade of red, the same color as the rubies that sat in one of her father’s rings. 

“And no one came to wake you from your slumber, sweet child?”

Elizabetta did not answer. 

The man  _ tsk _ ed. “That was rude of them, was it not? To leave a young thing out here all by yourself. I will bet that you are ever so lonely. No one even cares enough to bring you in for supper.”

“Would you care enough to take me inside?” Elizabetta courageously asked of the stranger, her big blue eyes singing of her childishness and naivety as she stared up at the man. 

His smirk widened again, and the child swore that she could see a hint of a fang peeking through his lips. “I would be delighted, little one. And, if you so wish, I will come by everyday to play with you when your brothers send you away.”

“Oh, I would enjoy that very much!” exclaimed the child, and she took his hand so he could lead her safely inside the castle. She did not expect him to lift her from the ground and settle her on his hip, stating that a little princess should not have to set her feet on the ground if she does not have to. He then plucked one of the flowers from the trees and tucked it in her blonde locks, remarking that a little princess should also always have flowers adorning their hair to enhance their beauty. This caused Elizabetta to giggle, and she allowed him to carry her to her home in this fashion. 

It was as they reached one of the many entrances to her castle that she realized that she did not know her stranger’s name. 

“It’s Selzar,” he said.

“That’s a funny name.”

“Yes, well, some people would say that Elizabetta is a funny name,” Selzar remarked, and placed her on the ground. She turned to thank him for bringing her home, but found that he had already disappeared. She thought nothing of it and, knowing that she would once again see her new friend tomorrow, walked into the castle, never once wondering how he had known her name.

When Elizabetta woke in her bed the next morning, she smiled as she prepared to play with her new friend and requested for Margarette to braid flowers into her hair.


	2. Melancholic Magic

Selzar kept his promise and came to visit her everyday. Elizabetta was never sad or lonely when he came to play with her. Playing pretend with her new friend was her favorite part of her day. Selzar created the best stories. He would take her off to places with daring sword fights, little ladies running from home in the night, and princes coming to sweep the ladies off of their feet. Elizabetta was sure that her Selzar was a magician. He could make her see stars in the middle of the day, and make her think that she was underwater when she was standing still on the ground. Her favorite trick of his was when he would pretend to breathe fire, like the dragons in the tales that Margarette would tell her at night. She was glad that Selzar found her that night amongst the cherry blossoms. His friendship with her was the best thing that happened to her.

When Elizabetta was five, Sayu gave birth to her Uncle Zander’s first child. A daughter whom they named Naomi. She was a tiny thing who took more after her mother with her darker coloring. This seemed to trouble her lord father more than anyone else, stating that he wished the babe looked more like a Sallieri, but Elizabetta did not mind. She was happy to finally have a girl to play with. As Naomi grew older, Selzar drifted farther from Elizabetta. She missed his presence, but her love for her young cousin accounted for her magician’s growing absence. 

When Elizabetta was seven, her mother passed. She sat with Naomi under the cherry trees, placing stalks of baby’s breathe into the young child’s dark glossy hair. It was early autumn, and all of the pink blooms on the trees had fallen and leaves turning shades of amber and gold had come to take their place. This is how her father found them when he came to tell her of the news. The illness that had befallen her mother since Elizabetta’s birth had finally taken her. All of her elder siblings seemed to be stricken with grief, but Elizabetta was not sad. She had loved her mother, yes. The woman had carried her in her womb and given her life, but she did not feel as though she knew her enough to mourn her passing as strongly as her brothers did. When the priests placed her mother in a tomb for her eternal rest, all those around her dabbed at their eyes, but Elizabetta did not weep. She stood silently with her family, tightly clutching to Naomi’s hand so that the child did not wander off during the ceremony. Selzar came to see her that night, creeping into her room as quietly and as swiftly as a cat. He came to give her comfort in a time of need, but she was not sorrowful because she knew that she had him. Her father announced that he would not remarry, but that her brother Lysander must find himself a wife. It was time for him to begin producing heirs to continue their family line. 

When Elizabetta was ten, Selzar stopped coming to visit her. She hated him for it. He had always been there for her, but now he was gone. She went to her cousin to tell her of her distress, but Naomi had only just turned five in the spring. The young child could not yet understand Elizabetta’s pain. Instead, Elizabetta told Naomi stories of her Selzar, crafting for her the tales of which the sorcerer himself had told Elizabetta. If he would not come to see her, then she would keep him with her by sharing the fantasies he had created for her with the one person she loved just as much as she loved him. It was as Elizabetta was telling her tales to her cousin that she realized that perhaps Selzar himself was a fantasy. Was her first friend a figment of her imagination? Had she created him to abate the loneliness she had felt as a child? This is what she told herself, if only to rid herself of the feelings of abandonment his disappearance brought her. 

When Elizabetta was thirteen, she became a woman, and her life changed drastically because of it. 


	3. A Reappearance

As soon as her father discovered that she had bled, Elizabetta’s life took a turn for the worst. She was a woman now, and Constantine Sallieri was adamant that she must marry. Any marriage of hers would benefit their family, and strengthen their ties with the greater houses. 

Elizabetta had no desire to marry. She was no fool to think that her husband would love her like many naive ladies had come to believe before their wedding days. She was well aware that the women of the court were little more than playthings for their lord husbands, trinkets to dress up and tote around to events and wombs to carry heirs for furthering a the family line. This was not the fate that Elizabetta wished to be trapped in. While Selzar may not have been real, his strong inference that she was a princess stayed with her. She was capable of becoming more than the lowly wife of some lord, stuck attending prim and proper balls and producing children. She could be a princess. A ruling queen. If her father had his way, her one desire would never come to fruition. She would not stand for that. 

It took Elizabetta’s father little more than a week to find her a willing husband of decent status. Her newly betrothed was the eldest son of Lord Wenderly of House Kittering, a western house known more for their money rather than decency. Lord Wenderly had fallen ill some months ago, and House Kittering had begun scrambling to make preparations in the event of the man’s death. His sickness was a surprise to many. Lord Wenderly was what most would consider the picture of a healthy man who had just passed his prime. There was no reason to fear that the man would die any time soon. Now he was an invalid who seldom left his bed while his wife tended to him, his sons tended his castle and fortune, and his advisers tended to grooming his eldest son Alfred for his eventual reign. This is why Elizabetta’s father thought now to be an excellent time for her to marry the eldest son. He would be a newly ruling lord, and eager to impress other members of the court. As his wife, her family would receive a considerable dowry for their marriage as Lord Alfred would attempt to make a name for himself by strengthening the ties between his western house and her eastern family, her father would then use his newly found funds to gain their house higher status, and hopefully her brother would be in turn able to take that newly found higher status and make their small eastern house seem more important and earn more respect in the eyes of the royal family. That is all her father cared about. He wanted the king to see him. He wanted their small house to make a statement in the history of their country. If there was one thing Elizabetta could say that she inherited from her father, it was his ambition. That is also why her betrothal annoyed her. She desired power, and that was one thing that she knew her lord husband would never be able to give her. 

A month after her engagement, Elizabetta, her father, Lysander, and Naomi set off for the western house’s lands. Constantine was not happy that her cousin would be accompanying them, but she had begged him to allow her to come. It was to be her wedding. She should have whoever she wished to be in attendance. The further west they traveled, orchards turned to farmland, farmland became plains, and plains finally bled into vineyards. As they arrived on House Kittering lands, their small party was greeted hospitably. Servants came to tend to them, while stable boys came to tend to their horses and others came to attend to the carriage that Naomi and Elizabetta rode in. 

Her father and brother were taken to speak with one of Lord Wenderly’s advisors and Alfred, seeing as the lord himself was in no condition to greet them and speak of the affairs that her father wished to attend to. She and Naomi were taken by the ladies of the court around the grounds. They smiled politely as they were shown the gardens and vineyards and such, but they would occasionally glance at each other because they knew that they could not be staying with House Kittering. 

That night, she and her family dined with Lord Alfred as his personal guests. He was what you expect of a Lord. Strongly built and an air of superiority. She did not much like him. While confidence was a trait necessary in someone responsible for taking care of those who lived on the land that you watched over, his confidence had become like something more akin to cockiness. Elizabetta thought that it was going to cause him problems, maybe even end up getting him killed, and if she was going to be forced to marry this man she did not want to become a widow too young. At least until after she had managed to worm her way smoothly into the politics of her soon-to-be husbands endeavours. 

After they ate, Alfred requested that she join him on a late walk throughout the castle, claiming that he would like it if they got to know one another before they were to be married. Elizabetta smiled and accepted his kind offer, but she knew from the look that he sent her father as they exited the room that the gesture was more for gaining her father good graces than her own. She was right in her first observations that he was entirely too overconfident for his own good. And narcissistic as well. Every word that came out of his mouth was an exaggeration of his exploits, and like the good little lady that she was, she nodded along and smiled and added falsified amazement where it was appropriate. Elizabetta could see that he liked her like this. Silent and submissive. Obedient. She wanted him to see her like this. If she was ever going to take ever his household, she wanted him to be none the wiser to her intentions. 

Alfred showed her to her chambers, ever the dutiful host, and bid her goodnight. She dressed herself in her nightgown and readied herself for bed. It was going to be a long week preparing for her wedding day. She slipped into her bed and blew out her candle, resting her head on her pillow as she began to fall asleep. Her chambers contained a balcony, and her balcony doors slamming open startled Elizabetta awake from her softly drifting consciousness. As she opened her eyes, she was greeted by a sight that she thought that she would never again see. A being she thought that she had created, with his two glowing red orbs staring down at her exposed form.

“Why hello, Elizabetta,” grinned her Selzar. “My, what a beautiful young woman you have become.”


	4. Late Night Dealings

"What’s wrong, Elizabetta? Surprised to see me?”

She was speechless. He was asking if she was surprised? He was asking if she was in shock that the man that she thought that she had created as a figment of her imagination in her childhood to try and rid herself of her loneliness had suddenly returned and was now standing over her in bed? No, not at all. She was perfectly fine in this situation. She was not questioning her sanity. At. All.

“You’re not real.”

Selzar furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m real. I’ve always been real, Elizabetta.”

She threw a pillow at his head. 

“And what, pray tell, was that for, little one,” he nearly growled, a hint of annoyance layering the voice she remembered being typically carefree. 

Elizabetta smirked, a trait he himself had taught her well. “I was making sure that you were real. Obviously.” He sent her a small glare. She got on his nerves. She liked that she got on his nerves.

“It’s been three years. What do you want, Selzar?”

The red-eyed man slithered up the length of her bed like a snake, his prey starring at him with a look of curiosity as he neared her. “I returned for you, Elizabetta. I realized in my absence that I loved my beautiful princess entirely too much to leave her behind. I need you, my love. I couldn’t possibly let you marry another.”

Elizabetta quirked a brow, a look of disbelief painting her soft features. “I’m not a child anymore, Selzar. In your ‘absence’ I grew up. I didn’t need you to whisper sweet nothings in my ear. Your pretty lies won’t work on me anymore. Now, what are you here for?” she sneered, her lovely face turned up as he dared to believe that she was the child that she was when he left her. Now that they were face to face once again, she was well aware that he was manipulative. While she did take some of his teachings to heart, she would not allow him to play with her like she was young girl again. She was a woman now. She would be handled as such.

The laugh that Selzar released startled her. She remembered from her childhood that his laughs were warm, but now he chuckled darkly, spider’s venom lacing his laughter. “My, my, my dear Elizabetta. Look at how much you have grown. No longer a sweet little princess, but a queen. From a sweet little bird, to a viper.”

“You have still yet to answer my question, Selzar,” stated Elizabetta, lifting her chin in a display of confidence. “Why are you here?”

The man flopped down on her bed beside her, letting out a sigh as he sank into the mattress. “I was being honest when I said that I can’t have you marry that… pitiful excuse for a lord. It is not in either of our best interests.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we both want you to be in a higher position of power.” This shocked Elizabetta. What would Selzar gain from her having power? How would Selzar even achieve placing her in my power? 

“And how would you go about placing me in power, hmm?” 

He smirked, “Oh, I have my ways.” What sort of ways? Yes, she may have thought him to be a magician in her youth, but those had to be a sort of illusion. There is no way that he would be able to place her where he wanted her without connections to powerful people. What sort of man had she befriended?

But, if she allowed him to give her power, she would be able to stop her wedding. She would not have to marry that idiot Alfred. She would be have the ability to control another power far greater than the house she was preparing to marry into. 

“What would I need to do for you in return?” There had to be something that she would have to do for him. This little deal of theirs was too good for her for him not to seek something from her. 

Selzar tapped her nose, a gesture that cause her to glare at him. He ignored her death stare. “You always were a clever girl, Elizabetta. What I would require of you, is that you would have to carry and take care of something of mine. Not forever. Just until I come back for it. This is something I would only entrust to you. I am sure that you would protect my possession with your life.”

“What would this possession be?”

“You will see, but only if you agree.”

“And if I agree, you’ll place me in a position of power higher than this… hole that I am about to marry into?”

He chuckled again, and this one was much more reminiscent of the ones she remembered from her childhood. “Oh, Elizabetta, you wouldn’t just be powerful. You would be a queen.”

And that was all it took for Elizabetta to accept their deal, his red eyes flashing as she signed herself over for his use. 


	5. The Marriage Bed

A week later, Castle Kittering was abuzz making final wedding preparations. Servants and house staff were fluttering about adding final touches to decorations, such as flower arrangements and deciding if that bunch of grapes that had taken from the vineyards should hang this way or that way. The chefs in the kitchen were busy making pies, the cooks preparing the crusts and seasoning the main ingredients to going into the fillings to perfection. Elizabetta herself was in a similar state of preparation. She stood in front of a full length mirror that had been placed in her chambers. Her hair had been carefully styled, and she had requested that they place carnations into her blonde locks. Her dress was of a soft blue color, and cinched around her tiny waist before the skirt fanned out and trailed behind her slightly to brush the floor. Her eyelids had been dusted lightly to make them look as though they sparkled and her lips had been painted a soft pink. Naomi was stood beside her in a similar fashion, handmaidens placing sweet hydrangeas into her silky black hair. That was all they had bothered to do to her cousin, deciding to spend more time dressing up Elizabetta as it was her wedding day. This was the reason that her cousin was more beautiful than she. Elizabetta’s beauty was painted on. Fake. A portrait of herself made to seem more appealing to her future husband. Naomi’s beauty was pure. Natural. Childlike. Elizabetta often forgot that her cousin was five years younger than she was. While Naomi was only eight, she was wise well beyond her years. Elizabetta trusted her with her life.

“You look gorgeous, my lady,” uttered the quiet maids as they finished preparing Elizabetta for the day. She smiled politely, and thanked them for their hard work. They did a wonderful job, and Elizabetta felt as though she looked like had fallen from the bright blue sky itself. She just wished that this for another reason other than her forced wedding.

She was apprehensive. Selzar had not shown himself since he had appeared a in her room in the dead of night a week ago to make their deal. She trusted him when he said that have everything handled, but she still had her doubts. How was he going to get her out of her marriage when, in just a few short hours, her father would walk through the doors of her chambers to walk her down the aisle and relinquish his ownership of her into the care of House Kittering. Elizabetta did not much believe in gods. She had not prayed to them in years, not since her mother passed and they had all listened respectfully to the priest bless her mother’s soul as he asked the gods to carry her peacefully into her eternity, but if there were ever time that she called upon them, now would be that time as she begged that she came out of this predicament of hers with good fortune. 

When Constatine Sallieri walked through her chamber door, a bright grin stretched across his lips. If Elizabetta was less of a pessimist, she would try to convince herself that his mood was due to the fact that his only daughter was getting married, but she knew that her father would never bother himself with such sentiments. He was most likely glad that he was finally able to practically sell her for a very fine profit. That is all she was to him. A possession. A successful business traction. For the sake of her sanity, she held her chin high and plastered a smile on her face. She would not allow her father bring down her mood. 

The actual wedding took less than ten minutes. Her father walked her down the aisle, a skip in his step as he handed her over. Their hands were bound and their vows were exchanged. They shared an awkward kiss, and one of Alfred’s brothers declared that it was time for the reception to begin. 

Elizabetta sat next to her husband, silent and obedient, but chin held high. The majority of the wedding party had drunk themselves into foolishness on the wine. She spotted her brother Lysander chatting up some of the servants, enticing them to come to his bed after the festivities. Every once in awhile, her father would glance at Lysander disapprovingly, and her brother would collect himself only for the wine to strengthen his bravery and he was once again off to find another girl to chat up. Elizabetta could not say that she had not fallen to the tempting siren song of the sweet wine. While she was in no state near to the rest of the congregation around her, she could feel the warming buzz of the alcohol as it spread from her stomach, down the lengths of her fingers and to the tips of her toes. She was well aware that if she was going to prepare herself for the tragedy that was her wedding night, she would need to have some of the liquid courage running through her veins. As far as Elizabetta could tell, her father and Naomi were the only two who had not partaken in the wine in copious amounts. Naomi because she was far too young for her to be allowed to have anymore than a cup, and her father because he wished to be of sound mind as he wandered about the hall, chatting with the other western lords that had come to pay their respects to Lord Alfred’s new marriage.Constantine Sallieri was an excellent actor He carried his goblet with him for appearances, and sipped at it whenever a particularly drunk member of the court was telling a story. He nodded along and laughed when appropriate. It shocked Elizabetta to see him in this sort of setting. She knew that she had inherited her sense of ambition from her father, but seeing him like this was almost too much. It was like watching an actor dance about on a stage, carrying on with his performance so beautifully and passionately that you would never believe that all of his words had been previously scripted. That every action had been rehearsed and planned to the point of perfection. She realized that she and her father were more similar than she previously acknowledged, and it made her hatred for him that much more powerful. 

Somewhere amongst all of the partying, someone joyfully announced that it was time for the bedding. Elizabetta steeled herself for the upcoming events, downing the contents of her goblet and grabbing her new husband's hand and dragging him towards their wedding chambers. If she was going to have to give up her innocence, then it was going to be on her terms. All around her, she could her the men whistling and laughing, shouting at Alfred that he got lucky for getting a girl who was ready to give herself to him. Elizabetta scoffed and payed them no mind. She glanced back towards Naomi and received a small nod from her young cousin. The gesture was a welcome one, and gave Elizabetta any confidence that she had been lacking. 

When Elizabetta and Alfred arrived at their marriage bed, she found it very odd that there was no one there to witness their consummation, but she supposed that she would take this one blessing. Alfred was too drunk to care much about anything other than her, and he was even failing in that regard. She set him on their bed, Alfred immediately falling flat on the soft downy covers as he was too drunk to support himself. Elizabetta was almost tempted to completely forget about him and sleep the night away, but she was sure that her father would conduct a thorough investigation to make sure that she had been properly deflowered. Which is why the absence of their witness still irked her, but she was determined that she was not going to let it bother her. 

As slowly as she could, she stripped herself of her clothes. Her blue wedding dress fell to the floor in a puddle of fabric and she was left in nothing but her underclothes. She could sense Alfred ogling her, reaching out for her in his drunken stupor, but she ignored him in favor of taking all of the pins from her hair. When she was finished, it fell to her waist in soft waves, like sunlight itself. She had always taken such pride in her hair, making sure to style it prettily and have some sort of flower placed in the tresses, a habit she could most certainly say came from her time from Selzar. Now her hair was plain, and by the end of the night it would most likely be disheveled and dirtied by her drunken husband’s hands. 

Elizabetta located the wine that had been left for them and downed yet another glass before she placed herself on the bed next to Alfred. It did not take him long to bring himself up to place wet and sloppy kisses on her skin, trailing them across her jaw and her collarbone before venturing further down her body. Elizabetta closed her eyes, willing her the burning of threatening tears to go away. She would not cry. She was strong. She would get through this. 

When Alfred reached the ribbons of her smallclothes, he stopped, and Elizabetta released the breath that she had not realized she had been holding. What was he doing? Was he really going to be a gentleman? Was he going to ask her if she was ready? It was only when he began coughing that she realized that there was something wrong. They started small, barely making a noise, before building up to where it sounded as though the air itself was raking its claws down the length of his throat. 

And then he was coughing up blood, until finally he choked and let out his last breath,

Elizabetta screamed. 

She did not seem to be conscious of much for the next few moments. She was halfway aware that a wandering servant had heard her screams, and that when he found Elizabetta covered in blood and staring at the dead body of Lord Alfred on the marriage bed he ran to get help. She remembered her father first, wrapping her in a dressing gown to keep her dignity while she was escorted back to chambers that she had been given when they first arrived. There was a warm bath waiting for her when she returned to her chambers, and a servant who was there to was wash her of ther blood that stained her pale skin. 

That had been some time ago, and Elizabetta was finally regaining some sense of consciousness. She looked to see where she was, and found that the servant had dressed her in a new gown and set her in front of a blazing fire. She could hear no one else walking about the castle. Perhaps the issue of Lord Alfred’s corpse had been taken care of for the night. 

Lord Alfred’s corpse. Lord. Alfred’s.  _ Corpse. _ Elizabetta laughed, her cackling so strong the the black crows that littered the sky would be proud. He had done it. He had actually done it. 

As if sensing her thoughts, the doors to her balcony burst open and in walked Selzar, confidence evident in his stride. 

“I suppose I should have you to thank for this, hmm?” inquired Elizabetta, a lazy smile gracing her lips as he came to sit beside her by the fire. 

“Of course,” said her Selzar, his lithe fingers brushing away her silk dressing gown and tracing nonsensical patterns on her skin. “I had planned to wait- to remove him, but then I saw how beautiful were and I decided then that I wanted you to be mine. And then he was touching you and I-” his voice, which she had noticed had been lower than his typical timbre, broke, and Elizabetta looked up at his face. His ruby eyes were staring deeply at her, burning with red hot with hunger. “I have to have you, Elizabetta. I  _ need _ to have you.” His tone caused her breath to catch and her heart to skip a beat. 

Maybe it was the wine thumping through her veins. Maybe it was the shock from the events of the nights. Maybe it was even just the fact that he was staring her like she had never seen him look at her before, but she fell under his spell. She gave herself to him.

Together, they tumbled into oblivion.


	6. A Royal Greeting

The death of Lord Alfred on his wedding night caused such a disturbance among the court that the royal family sent a messenger to report that the king and a few select members of his household would be making a visit to House Kittering to “see to that Lord Alfred’s young widow would be well taken care of in her current state of despair.” Elizabetta scoffed at this. If the king was as smart as she imagined him to be, then the message was little more than pretty words made to appease and serenade her into submission. It was more likely that the royal family was coming to determine the state of House Kittering’s assets. And to determine if whether in the house’s fragile state they could take some of those assets for themselves. 

A week after the event of her tragic wedding night, the King arrived, toting with him his eldest son and a few of his daughters. They rode in on stallions, dressed in finery well beyond anything that Elizabetta had ever owned. She had heard that the royal family, House Braig, held some amount of etherealness about them, but she had never imagined them like this. The entire family was beautiful, some of the most beautiful people that Elizabetta had ever seen, with their eyes as blue as sapphire oceans and their hair as red as bright autumn leaves. One of the princesses rode in with a wide smile on her face as she took in the warm western sun. It looked as though someone was enjoying themselves. She glanced over and saw that some of Alfred’s younger brothers had caught sight of the princess as well. They were certainly enjoying her.

Elizabetta stood with House Kittering to welcome the royal family, her father, brother, and cousin all stood behind her out of respect. She was dressed in black, her face covered in a veil to hide her face so that she might mourn in peace. It was all for appearances sake. She and Alfred were wed for barely more than a few short hours. Everyone in the castle knew that the only mourning she would be doing was mourning the loss of her sanity as she watched Alfred die in front of her. Of course, that incident no longer bothered her as soon as she had come out of her state of shock, but no one need know of that. She was content with playing the soft little young widow who had gone silent when as she watched her husband cough up blood in front of her, so long as that facade was beneficial to her needs. Selzar had encouraged her to continue her act as well, promising that for his plans to unfurl he needed for her to appear innocent. With all that he had done for her these past few weeks, she trusted his judgement, so she would continue on as his willing actress, sporting her false tears as she walked about as though she were floating somewhere on the edge of insanity. 

As the royal family dismounted their horses, it was the son that captured her attention, and somewhere in the back of her mind a voice that sounded like her Selzar’s was whispering that it would be of great value to them for her to capture his attention as well. The King greeted her first, and Elizabetta dipped into a small curtsy. His Majesty’s voice was gruff as he gave Elizabetta his condolences for her loss. She thanked him in a small voice and he nodded before moving on to greet the other members of House Kittering, not paying her any mind. This did not bother her. It was not he who she must persuade into her favor. The princesses greeted her next, much more kindly than their father had. The one who had rode in with a small on her face introduced herself as Constanza, and she held out her hands for her other sisters to come and join her. They were twins, and introduced themselves as Lara and Lana. All three sisters gave Elizabetta their most sincerest condolences, before each of them placed a sweet kiss on her veiled cheeks. She thanked them politely, her voice stronger than when she had spoken to their father. This seemed to please them, for the trio of sisters all beamed at her brightly before continuing on the greet the remainder of the household. The young prince was the last to greet her, and his meeting was the one that was most important. 

He bowed deeply, and took her hand to place a delicate kiss on the back of her hand. “My lady, I am Prince Dillan, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I only wish that it were under less tragic circumstances, and I want to offer you the most sincerest of condolences.”

Elizabetta lifted her black veil from her face, allowing the prince to look upon her face rather than seeing her through the sheer fabric. She watched as his eyes took in her features, his eyes widening somewhat slightly as he admired her beauty. Good. She needed for him to think her beautiful if she were going to seduce him.

She dipped into the lowest curtsey that she could achieve, her eyes downcast out of respect as she rose again. “Your sentiments are much appreciated, my prince,” whispered Elizabetta, a breathy sigh echoing off of her lips. The young prince curled a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to look upon his face. He smiled kindly, a smile that she returned. Oh, yes. Prince Dillian’s affections would work very well in her favor. 

That night, they dined with the royal family in the dining hall, an orchestra offering music during their meal. Every once in awhile, Elizabetta would catch Dillian staring at her, and she would send him a small innocent smile. The sons of House Kittering were once again trying to gain the attentions of the princesses -- of course some of the sweeter ones were paying more mind to the prince-- but the young members of the royal family were more interested in conversing with Elizabetta. Lara and Lana, who were perhaps barely older than Elizabetta herself, were very loquacious, but in a curious way. They sat on either side of her, both of them begging her to let them play with her hair remarking that it was some of the most beautiful tresses that they had ever seen. When she had allowed them to start braiding her golden locks, they inquired about other things. What was her favorite color? Her favorite food? What was her favorite season?

“I would have to say that my favorite season would be summer. Back home in the east, there are a grove of cherry blossom trees that bloom beautiful pink flowers during the summer months.” Naomi smiled at her fondly as she too thought about their beloved trees. “As the wind blows through them, it catches the blooms and it looks as though it is snowing pink petals. It’s beautiful. Naomi and I would often sit in them and enjoy watching them flutter to the ground.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Constanza, her ever present bright smile lighting up her face. “Oh, father, we must come to see them some time.”

At this, Elizabetta’s own father perked up. He would take any chance to have the royal family on his lands. “House Sallieri would gladly welcome His Majesty and his court to our hearth and home whenever they wished.” 

The king acknowledged her father with little more than a  _ harrumph _ , his children all gazing upon him with disappointment lighting their sapphire eyes. Elizabetta decided then that she did not think the king to be very good dinner company, or very good company at all. It was Constanza who picked up the conversation after her father’s dismissal of Constantine. 

“We would be delighted, Lord Sallieri. Not just to come and see dear Elizabetta’s cherry trees, but I have heard that your lands are known for more temperate winters. It would wonderful to not be stuck in snow for months.”

As Constanza and Constantine continued to chat amicably, Elizabetta finally acknowledge the presence of her brother. He had been awfully silent throughout this whole dinner. She expected to find him chatting up one of the serving girls yet again, but instead he sat next to their father with his eyes downcast and his shoulders lowered in submission. He must have finally been scolded into his place by their father. 

“Elizabetta?”

She looked up at the sound of her name to see that it had been Prince Dillian who had called out to her. She placed a sweet smile on her, her eyes widening slightly in what most would assume was delight. “Yes, my prince?”

“Would you care to join me on a walk after supper? I would enjoy your company.”

The chatter around her died down as the members of the dining hall awaited her answer. Lara and Lana both giggled, whispering naively about true love. His Majesty seemed indifferent, as he had the entire meal, or really the entire time he had been in Wenderly Castle. Naomi was complacent, but Elizabetta knew her cousin well enough to know that she was curious about the ordeal. Lysander was still submissive as he had been for the course of the dinner. Constanza and Constantine both seemed to be pleased that the young prince had taken an interest in Elizabetta, of course she knew that the only reason her father was pleased is because his daughter beginning a courtship with a member of the royal family would bring attention to their house. 

Elizabetta smiled, “I would be delighted, Prince Dillian.” 

As opposed to the time that Alfred had asked to escort her around the grounds, mostly to talk about himself, Dillian was ever the gentleman, a trait she had yet to see from the men of the court. Elizabetta almost did not know what to do with herself. He inquired about her life, what the eastern lands were like, he was attentive when she told stories, and laughed when she joked in her dry humor that tended to slip past most others. It was actually quite nice. She almost felt a little guilty that she would be using him to her advantage. Almost. 

He took her to her chambers when the moon was high and the chill of the late fall air was pricking at their skin with the promise of coming to visit her again tomorrow.

It was a week later when he asked for her hand. 


	7. The Tempest

It took the royal party a week to reach the capital. When they arrived, it was nothing like Elizabetta had ever seen. A palace made of marble sat atop a hill, and stained glass fixtures were placed all around to catch the sun that was constantly shining down on them. It was a bright place befitting of the fiery family that lived there. 

They were greeted by the queen, a kind small woman with dark green eyes and hair the color of chocolate with streaks of silver the only thing showing her age. It seemed that while her children took after their father in looks, they took after their mother in temperament. 

Her wedding to the prince was planned quickly, and within a fortnight they were married. Months later, she gave birth to a son, a tiny little thing with her blue eyes and hair as dark as night that she named Ariel. The kingdom celebrated the birth of the new prince, but Elizabetta knew that her child was not of royal lineage. His father was something entirely other. 

Elizabetta had been living as princess for two years when the king fell ill. No one knew what mysterious affliction had befallen his majesty, but the healers did not give him very long to live.Soon after, the king passed in his sleep, the kingdom mourned his death, and Dillian was named king. Elizabetta assumed her title of queen at the young age of fifteen, the youngest queen the kingdom had ever seen. 

Constanza assumed the position of a trusted advisor to her brother, while the twins were each married off to powerful families to strengthen ties between the new king and the higher powers of the court. Elizabetta missed their presence. When they left, it seemed as though the sun itself began to dim at their loss. She needed some of their brightness to break up the monotony of her life. 

Her queenly duties wore on her. While she held a title of high value, she held no true means to power. She had her husband’s ear, yes, but it still was not enough. Selzar had given her what her had promised. She had become queen, but she still felt cheated. She wanted more.

Speaking of Selzar, she had not seen him in what was almost a year. He visited her often during her first months married to Dillian, his appearances becoming more frequent as her pregnancy progressed. The last time she had seen him was the night that she had given birth to their son. The midwives had already cleared away to allow the her and her son to rest and Selzar swept silently like smoke. He cradled their son in his arms with a pleased smile on his face before he was gone once again. 

That night was the beginning of Eliabetta’s wariness. The pleasure that graced Selzar’s face that night was not the smile of a father gazing upon his son, but of a dragon gazing upon their treasures. She remembered the words of their deal well. “To carry and to take care. Not forever. Just until I come back for it.” She had assumed that night that he was referring to some object that he would be leaving in her possession, but it was not until Selzar looked at her son that she realized that had been terribly wrong in her assumptions. When she thought through the wording of their deal, it all made sense. Ariel. Her son. He was the possession that Selzar had been referring to. He had been given to her by Selzar the night that Alfred was murdered, and she had carried him inside of her and taken care of him. Her child. Selzar planned on taking him from her. 

He would have to rip her limb from limb before she ever allowed the red-eyed snake anywhere near her son. 

Ariel was the only thing she had anymore. Her father and brother had left as soon as she had married Dillian, swimming joyfully in the considerable dowry that her husband’s family had gifted them. They had dragged along Naomi along with them. She had requested that her beloved cousin come with her and act as her lady-in-waiting, but her father refused by claiming that she was much too young to be exposed to the politics of the capitol. Elizabetta had scoffed at that, because if her cousin could cope with murder at her young age she could certainly deal with life in the royal family’s house. One day her father’s excuse that the child was too young would no longer, and her cousin would return to her, of that Elizabetta. But until then, she was alone with no one but her infant son to keep her company. 

She needed the company of those she trusted now more than ever. There was something treacherous brewing on the horizon. A terrible storm forming out on the sea. And in her heart, she knew that somehow Selzar was behind it. 


	8. Bad Moon Rising

Three years had Elizabetta been ruling as queen when her dearest cousin Naomi made her way into her service as her lady-in-waiting. Her closest confidant had arrived just in time, for King Dillian was tending to matters feuding houses within his kingdom, and tension was high within the castle. Elizabetta was grateful to have someone to once again share all of her concerns with. 

Selzar had still not shown himself since the night that Ariel was born, but she could almost feel his presence everywhere now. Naomi was now the age that Elizabetta herself was when she agreed to her deal with her red-eyed man, and she had been keeping Selzar a secret for far too long. As soon as the two cousins were alone, the whole story spilled from Elizabetta’s lips while Naomi listened attentively. She told her about how Selzar had come to find her when she was just a lonely child, and she had been quick to accept his offer of friendship. How he had disappeared as soon as Naomi was old enough to entertain Elizabetta leaving her sad and convinced that she had just made him up. How he had reappeared in her life to manipulate her into a deal. How he was the reason that Alfred Kittering died on their marriage bed on the night that she wed him. How her son was not of royal lineage but the child of a red-eyed man who most likely was going to take him away from her. Everything. Naomi remained silent the entire time, and even some time afterwards as she thought through everything that her cousin had just told her. She finally spoke just to utter a single word. A word so terrifying that in that moment Elizabetta knew that she had made a mistake so grave she had mostly likely cost herself the lives of herself and everyone around her.

Demon. 

It made absolute sense. What else could the mysterious man possibly be? Selzar, who possessed such deep red eyes that seduced her and magic he had used in her childhood to amazed her and later in her life to manipulate. How many times in her life had she fallen under his spell? Was she under his spell right now? Was her entire existence fabricated by that demon? Every step already decided? Every word preordained? Was anything that had happened to her not the work of the man who was playing with her life like a conductor on a stage?

A her son. Oh, her son. What about her precious Ariel? His father was a demon. What did this mean for the fate of her child? Would he become like his father?

No, her Ariel would be nothing like his father. That had to be why Selzar wanted to take him from her. To shape into something much like himself. Manipulative. A liar. She would never allow Selzar to get anywhere near Ariel. She had already failed in accepting a deal with the demon.

She would not allow the demon to rise to power. 


	9. Nevermore

Tensions between the houses began to rise, and Dillian deemed it appropriate to deal with the matter personally. He set out with his sister, leaving Elizabetta and her son to themselves in the castle for the coming months. This did not bother Elizabetta much. While she felt comfortable with Dillian, she did not seek out his company. She mostly kept to herself with Ariel and Naomi. 

She was there to see him off, and he kissed her son and wished them goodbye with all of his heart. Seeing Dillian like this made her feel guilty. He truly did love and cherish Elizabetta and Ariel like they were his entire world, but he kissed a son that was not truly his and loved a woman who had come to terms long ago that she could never give her heart away to another. She wished Constanza farewell as well, her good sister still as bright and cheerful as ever even with the weight of the entire kingdom resting upon her shoulders. They each promised her that they would return, hopefully with the feuding settled, and that they would miss her greatly. Elizabetta smiled, but she was wary. Something wicked was coming, and she was positive that Selzar was once again preparing to make himself a part of her life.

With the absence of Dillian, Elizabetta was slowly slipping into an anxiety driven madness. Every rustle of tapestry startled her. Every creak of an old staircase set her on edge. Naomi tried to ease her nerves, and while her efforts were appreciated, they were mostly fruitless. Her fears were lessened some months later when she received word from her husband that his efforts to end the strife between the houses in his kingdom proved to be successful and that he would be returning home within a few weeks time. Perhaps Selzar was not behind the current events after all. 

She was wrong. Terribly wrong.

When the raven arrived, Elizabetta knew that the news it carried could only be bad. She had always liked ravens. They were very smart and curious birds, and she knew that if you treated them well they would return that kindness with little treasures and trinkets. Dutiful in their task of letter carriers as well. Such sweet little creatures. But this raven did not feel the same. It’s eyes were as sharp and menacing as a knife, and it’s black feathers seemed as though they carried with it darkness and sorrow itself. She supposed that in some way it did, for the news it carried was very sorrowful indeed.

Dillian had been successful in garnering peace between the feuding houses in his kingdom, and had begun the journey back to capitol in high spirits. He had accomplished his kingly duties and was glad to be returning to his wife and son whom he had not seen in months. He would not be returning to them though. 

The letter did not go into much detail about the events of the deaths of her husband and good sister. They had been returning from their successful diplomatic mission when they came upon some sort of blockage on the road. The blockage was a distraction and the party was attacked by a group of rogues brandishing poisoned daggers. Only a few members of the royal party had lived. Dillian and Constanza were not among those members.

Within a few short weeks, Elizabetta had been named queen regent until such time as Ariel was old enough to claim the title of king. It was as she first sat on the throne that she realized what Selzar’s plan had been all along. 


	10. The Black Sun

For a day in midsummer, it was uncharacteristically cool. The sun was shining high above, but it was windy and the chill that pricked at one’s skin made it seem as though you were constantly standing in shadow. This did not deter the people of Elizabetta’s kingdom. In just a few short days, Ariel would reach the age of eighteen and be named the rightful king. 

Elizabetta had ordered for the grandest celebration to be held in his honor. The chefs were to prepare their tastiest meals. The orchestra was to play their finest pieces. It was to be a joyous day. It had been thirteen years since the death of King Dillian, and his heir had finally come of age to take the throne. 

Elizabetta had enjoyed her time as regent. The time with her title had given her enough time to rule as she had desired and to groom her son to act in her stead when he was old enough to take her place. And how she had taught Ariel well. She refused to allow anyone other than herself to teach him in the ways of strategy. If anyone was going to teach him how to rule her kingdom then it would be her and no one else. From the time his father died and she had been named regent, she would bring him with her to all her important meetings, making sure that he observed her every action and perfecting a duplication of her movements. Some members of the court worried that she was mothering the boy too much, and that he would never amount to a strong king, but she made sure to see to it that those who dared to dying him were put in their place. 

As he had grown, he began to look more like his father, but in temperament he was the perfect recreate of her. She was proud of her Ariel. She was glad that she was able to give her throne away to the son that she had raised. 

As Ariel’s coronation drew closer, the days began getting cooler and cooler. Naomi seemed to be the only one bothered by this, saying that her mother once told her a story about the day the sun disappeared, taking with it all of the warmth and letting the darkness enter. Elizabetta was bothered by this, but she would not allow it to ruin her the festivities. 

The coronation day had finally arrived. A mass of her subjects had been congregated in the throne room, which had been decorated with thousands and candles and golden fixtures and a long red rug leading to the throne where Elizabetta stood. Her son would enter and walk down the length of the red runner to his mother who would place the crown upon his head and name him king. 

The doors of the throne room were opened, and Ariel walked regally and confidently towards his mother to receive his title. He kneeled at Elizabetta’s feet as she place the crown on his head, and he was finally declared king. The people applauded, and some even cheered.

But there was nothing but silence when every candle was blown out and the room was shrouded in darkness. 

“Hello Elizabetta dear.”

No it couldn’t be. It just could--

“Selzar.”

That was her son’s voice. How was it that he knew the demon?

Selzar smirked, “Ah, I see that our son seems to have forgone telling you about  _ that _ detail.” Lies. He had told Ariel to keep quiet about the fact they had been meeting in secret. 

She expected to hear the gasps of the people at the revelation that Ariel was not in fact that child of the king, but when she looked around they were all stood still. It was as if time around them had been frozen, for they were silent and some bore slightly startled faces from when the candles in the throne room had been abruptly blown out. 

“Why did you lie, mother?” asked Ariel, the smirk gracing his face the twin of the one that his father still bore. “Why did you keep from me the knowledge that I possessed such power!” Raised his arms above his head, and the candles breathed life once again as towers of white flames as high as the ornate ceiling burst forth from their wicks. 

Elizabetta fell to the ground, her eyes wide with fear. “I-I was trying to protect you. He wanted to take you from me. I wouldn’t let him have you, Ariel! I wouldn’t let him!”

Ariel  _ hmphed _ , “Well, I think it’s too late for that.” He stood tall above her, and Elizabetta was reminded of her childhood. Of a man with magic playing with her when she was lonely. Her first friend. “This kingdom belongs to me now, mother. I have no further use for you.”

Ariel’s eye’s flashed a ruby red. He snapped his fingers, and Elizabetta was thrown into an eternal darkness from which she would never rise.

Outside, the people screamed as the sun turned black, and the day was swept away into night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super excited to write this chapter about the eclipse because 2017 was the year that the solar eclipse that was at the perfect angle to span the length of the US happened, and I can remember it getting noticeably cooler as the moon crept over sun which I thought was really cool, so I wanted to incorporate that. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading! I know it's not a lot, but I'm still proud.
> 
> Stay safe, stay healthy in this quarantine time. I hope you all have lovely days!


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